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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29285568">Orgasm, on the House</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKAuthor/pseuds/AKAuthor'>AKAuthor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drag Queens, F/M, Gay Bar, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Gay crisis, Humor, Identity Reveal, Innuendo, Kinda, Lube, M/M, Mentions of Masturbation, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Pining, Pre-Canon, Secret Identity, Sex, Sex Work, Smut, Suggested Smut, Viktor is an ice skater, Viktor is gay, We're all a little bit gay here, Yuri Plisetsky has a minor sexual awakening, Yuuri is a Drag Queen, no beta we die like men, oblivious Viktor, yet - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:21:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29285568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKAuthor/pseuds/AKAuthor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Viktor is Gay. At least, he thinks he is until he meets the most beautiful woman in the world at a gay bar in Bern. </p><p>Viktor has a Gay Crisis and an inconvenient boner. </p><p>(Yuuri is a Drag Queen and Viktor loses his mind)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christophe Giacometti &amp; Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Victor Nikiforov &amp; Yuri Plisetsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Yuuri and Vitya (and Co.)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Viktor is pretty sure that he has always been gay. There wasn’t ever a significant moment of decision or realisation, only ever present awareness that he found Alexei the hockey player far, far more attractive than that pretty blonde model all of his male rinkmates were drooling over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Growing up without engaging in the schooling system helped, he supposes, because there was never much of an outside source telling him that liking guys was wrong, or that being gay was a bad thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, the hockey team tried to use Viktor’s sexuality against him, taking potshots at his femininity and his choice in sport, but Viktor’s won more medals than most of them have braincells so he was hardly about to let them beat him down on something so trivial.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not to mention, offering to suck the main perpertrator off just to see if he isn’t in fact the gay one, because “how would you know if you’re really straight if you’ve never tried penis, Sokolov?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even the media lost it’s interest some time ago, mostly because Viktor was quick to silently establish that it doesn’t really matter who he takes back to his room and what they put where, not if he’s winning medals and awards, trophies and world-titles every other month. Long gone is ‘GAY FIGURE SKATER VIKTOR NIKIFOROV MEDALS AT WORLDS’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now they all say ‘NIKIFOROV WINS FIFTH CONSECUTIVE GOLD AT GRAND PRIX’ and helpfully don’t mention the tabloid photographs of him in an elevator making friends in the biblical sense with a Korean Ice Dancer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, Viktor sees absolutely no problem in accompanying Christophe to his favourite bar in Bern. Christophe doesn’t even need to mention that it is a gay bar, because Viktor knows him too well as do all major European sports tabloids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a nice bar, tucked in between what looks like a lingerie boutique Viktor plans to visit in the morning, and a little cafe that closed hours ago. With the European Championships behind them, Viktor and Christophe inform their coaches who react with varying levels of support, and make their way into a pleasantly lit, nicely decorated bar that is already thrumming with energy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor thinks that it is one of the best gay bars he’s visited on his travels, it’s clean and not crammed but still cosy, with a delightful range of drinks and a complimentary glory hole in the bathroom that Chris helpfully informs him about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re waiting at the bar when the first unwelcome surprise appears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yura! What are you doing here? You’re too young for a place like this!” Viktor almost shrieks at the young skater. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yuri Plisetsky glares up at him, fourteen years old and filled with hormonal rage. “I followed your dumbasses, wasn’t hard to do,” he spits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor isn’t sure how to deal with the situation. He still tries though, and that’s what counts. “Go back to the hotel!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Yuri says with teenage firmness. He’s looking around with wide eyes that give away his age and inexperience, the purple, pink, and blue lights making his hair change colour. “What is this place, exactly?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a bar, darling,” Chris says, turning back to the bar and hoping to snag the bartenders attention for a table and drinks soon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a normal bar though, is it?” Yuri says with surprising awareness. “Nowhere he goes is normal, this is some sort of sex thing isn’t it,” he nods at Christophe who coughs out a laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor can’t wholly deny Yuri’s observation. “It’s not a sex bar,” he says, “I’m not sure those exist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure they do, I know a place nearby--” Chris begins with an eyeroll. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BUT if they do, you wouldn’t be invited,” Viktor loudly speaks over Chris. “And you’re not invited here either, so I’ll call you a taxi back to the hotel-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I want to stay,” Yuri states, though his eyes keep flicking over to the writhing dance floor and up to the ceiling. “So long as this doesn’t turn into an orgy or something with him around,” he nods again at Christophe who appears proud at the acknowledgement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor considers his options, most of which involve force because Yuri has no respect for him and will not abide by any instructions Viktor gives him. “Fine. But you’re drinking soda only and if something inappropriate happens you have to close your eyes,” he bargains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen Giacometti skate, what else is there to see?” Yuri says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair point, but still. No alcohol, don’t accept free drinks, no dancing, don’t go anywhere without me, and definitely do not use the last stall in the bathroom,” Viktor says in one breath. “And don’t tell Yakov the details of anything you see here,” he adds for good measure, seeing something very sexual happening under one of the tables too close by for comfort. He reaches out and pulls Yuri away, wary of him seeing anything too graphic or getting… hit by stray fire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Watch it!” the teen grumbles. “I’m not a kid, I’ve seen porn,” he struggles but Viktor has him by the hoodie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor decides not to think too hard on what the kid has been watching. “Seeing something done by actors on a screen is nothing like what happens in real life,” he lectures. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s better!” Chris chimes in, perhaps thinking that he’s being helpful. A glance at his face confirms that he definitely doesn’t think that and is enjoying making Viktor’s night out turn into a babysitting adventure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opens his mouth to offer a taxi for Yuri one last time when he is interrupted by the second unwelcome surprise of the evening. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A reverse gay crisis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A straight crisis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gay-straight crisis. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The most beautiful woman in the world is walking over to them, painted red lips turned up in a beckoning smile and dark hair curled over one shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor has only ever seen one man who made him react so instantly to his beauty and that remains locked in his memory shrouded with arousal and embarrassment for not only getting painfully hard in literal seconds, but for also ruining any pride Viktor held in his ability to last for hours of bliss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This woman has very nearly broken those records if the state of Viktor’s jeans are anything to go by. Thank God it’s dark in the bar because any more light on his crotch could reveal a problem of similar qualities to the frozen river Neva. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Long, hard, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiles and it’s so beautiful that Chris turns around and his eyes almost fall out of his bisexual head and into the woman’s insane cleavage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looking for a table?” she says in lilted English, slanting some vowels with an Americanised accent tinted by something else, probably a first language. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, nobody present has enough of a brain left to translate English so Viktor and Chris blink dumbly and Yuri has stopped blinking altogether, experiencing a new type of teenage emotion Viktor recalls being very familiar with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“En Francais? Voulez-vous une table?” the pretty woman now says in French, which is enough to pull Chris out of her cleavage and back into the present. Viktor is still panicking and trying to process his sudden and inconvenient boner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oui, s'il-vous plaît,” Chris charmingly replies and it rankles Viktor because Chris is bisexual and has been out for years, he’s fucked way more women than Viktor has and that means that this one should definitely be Viktor’s intro to the female gender, sex, and everything else this mystifyingly gorgeous woman wants from him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lights change for a song and illuminate Viktor’s new first girlfriend, showing off a perfect hourglass figure dressed in a clingy, black, sheer little dress. It’s barely darker than one of the sheer panels on Chris’ latest exhibition outfits, dotted sporadically with little stones that glint like stars. Under the dress, if that’s what the tightest piece of fabric Viktor’s ever seen is called, she wears lingerie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strappy, intricate, </span>
  <em>
    <span>for-your-eyes-only</span>
  </em>
  <span> lingerie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it also looks like leather, if Viktor isn’t mistaken. He’s almost ready to pull out his phone and start making notes on the woman so when he inevitably returns to his hotel room and resumes his crisis, he at least has a good list of reasons for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And some material for jacking off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turns and leads them through the crowd, thick black hair swinging behind her. It’s ruffled and slicked back, like someone’s been running their hands through it all night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor considers offering to be a stylist for her. He’d be very hands on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She takes them to a table and sees them seated with another sultry smile, toned down when she turns to Yuri who turns the same shade as her lips. She says something in French again, this time about drinks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris is about to reply when Viktor finds his tongue. “We speak English,” he says without really thinking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman’s eyes, smoked out with glittery gold that catches the light and makes her brown irises match the medals Viktor has at home, crinkle with a bigger smile, indulgent and sweet. “That’s good because I was running out of French,” she says with a wink at Yuri. “Would you like some drinks? My name is Kat, by the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m Chris, this is Viktor and Yuri,” Chris replies. “We’ll have two of your finest cocktails and a coke for the bebe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The name draws Yuri out of his hormone infested mind just enough to glare at Chris, but he ducks his head in embarrassment and hides behind his curtain of hair when Kat lets out a little giggle. “I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment,” she says and saunters off, pausing for a moment to exchange glamorously over exaggerated kisses with a redheaded girl dressed in some kind of harnessed gown with slits up to her ribs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor turns to Chris, panic on his face. “Chris, I thought I was gay!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So did I, Cherie,” Chris entertains, concerned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor makes a flailing motion to where Kat has vanished into the crowd. “I like her!” his voice sounds strangled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everybody at this table likes her,” Chris smirks knowingly at Yuri. “Doesn’t mean you’re gay, she might just be an outlier. The one woman on Earth you’d bone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor comforts himself with that. “The one woman, right.” He thinks for a moment. Women, he knows, are different from men and may be harder to please in bed. At least he’s been able to work out what’s good by experimenting with himself; the female anatomy is almost a mystery as far as Viktor’s concerned because he only recalls tidbits from a very awkward tutor when he was much younger and a snippet of straight porn that had been so</span>
  <em>
    <span> loud</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d turned it off almost instantly. “What do I do?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know Cherie. Kat might be a bit advanced for your first woman, she’s far too pretty to be low maintenance in bed,” Chris ponders. “I find it’s better to get your bearings with someone who doesn’t mind that their genitals will make you pause and freak out for a minute before proceeding.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want another one, I want Kat,” Viktor hisses across the table. He doesn’t have time to practice! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everybody wants Kat, honey, that’s why she’s only here for another night,” a voice passing by stops at their table. It’s the redhead, who’s much, much taller up close. She leans in, brushing a wave of floral perfume across the table. “There’s a reason she’s called Kat Sue Domme,” she winks conspiratorially before strutting off with a tray of drinks in hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor blinks. “What an odd name,” he says. Chris frowns and tilts his head, just as Kat returns. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One coke,” she puts a tall glass down in front of Yuri who’s knee jolts and hits the table with a loud thump. “And two Orgasms,” she sets down two small glasses in front of Viktor and Chris. Viktor doesn’t notice because the issue he is having in his pants abruptly grows worse at the word orgasm. Yuri makes a choking noise that should be alarming but nobody notices. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat smiles again and leaves them to their drinks, walking away and taking Viktor’s sense of gayness with her. His mouth is dry so he blindly takes a drink of his cocktail only to splutter and cough at the unexpected creaminess of the drink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s thick, white, filthy, and made with a fair amount of Kahlua and Irish cream. It’s good. He likes orgasms in all forms, Viktor decides. He downs it in one, ignoring Yuri’s judgemental stare across the table. Chris sips at his own Orgasm and flicks through a small drinks menu that’s been ignored on their table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this looks fun, a Redheaded Slut,” he says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yuri wrinkles his nose. “Mila isn’t here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor snorts. “Don’t talk about Mila like that,” he reprimands. “She has more medals than you,” he adds for posterity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yuri scowls and looks ready to launch himself across the table when the lights dim and the music changes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready for the main event?” a voice asks over the crowd. There’s enthusiastic cheering. “She’s come all the way from the clinic just for tonight… she’s brought with her, her favourite IV bag… please welcome your host for tonight, Halo Doll!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A stage that had been so shrouded in darkness Viktor hadn’t noticed it lights up in an array of pinks and blues, the redhead from earlier posed in the center with her mouth poised suggestively around a microphone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Chris says, consulting the back of the menu. “It’s Drag Night,” he says over the din of the roaring crowd and a practiced British voice speaking over them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a dude?” Yuri gapes at the woman on the stage, curvy and lusty and making hand motions that are not age appropriate. Viktor scrambles to cover his eyes, all the while his own are stuck to the performer and her mile long legs in amazement. He had never given drag much thought but apparently he should have because Halo Doll could definitely teach him a thing or two that could come in handy on the ice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe off of it too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Halo is definitely a man,” a familiar voice chimes. Kat places a pale hand on their table, rings decorating her ring and pinky fingers prettily. Viktor wants to ask to see them closer so that he can hold Kat’s hand. She nods at Viktor’s empty glass. “Care for another orgasm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor almost has his own right then.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but I think Viktor would like to give you one,” Chris helpfully butts in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat appears to blush but the entire bar has been turned pink by the lights for the next performer, someone called Peaches. “Such a gentleman,” she coos and sidles closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor can feel the warmth of her arms as she leans up to him, hair soft and dusting over his shoulder. The panic begins anew as Kat blinks brown doe eyes up at him, red lips pinched by white teeth.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about it, handsome? Do you want to take me somewhere else for my own orgasm?” Kat whispers in his ear, nose almost pressing into his cheek. “If you like I can show you how to make them… it’s a speciality of mine you know, orgasms…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m gay!” Viktor panics loudly. Yuri snickers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat doesn’t move herself, only smiles slyly. “Good thing I am too then,” she smirks and purrs, “Now, do you want to come and show me how gay you are, or should I go and ask up at the bar for another orgasm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>❤️❤️❤️</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <a href="https://ko-fi.com/akauthor">My Kofi</a>
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Viktor loses his brain to Kat's thighs.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have never had such a positive response to a fic before! I'm overwhelmed, you're all so nice!<br/>Here is an attempt at smut, but I am ace and don't really know what I'm doing to be honest. Hopefully it's okay.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Viktor is definitely not drooling as he follows Kat out of the bar and towards an idling taxi. His brain has more or less handed itself over to the pretty woman-man? Viktor still isn’t a hundred percent on that front but he’d regret it for the rest of his life if he turned down Kat. She had swept past the bar on her way out, Viktor trailing behind her while she fetched a small clutch and pulled a large furry jacket on over her dress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The taxi ride is quick, and as Kat presses a handful of bills into the drivers hands, the luxurious fur of her long coat brushes Viktor’s wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor never realised how erogenous his wrists were until he was picturing Kat holding them over his head in a tight, squeezing grip while she-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor audibly swallows and shuts his eyes, desperately thinking about Yakov’s bald spot to avoid ruining his nice trousers. Not to mention his favourite thong - it’s new and lacy. He hopes Kat likes it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn’t until Kat has towed him inside the building and over to a bay of elevators that Viktor realises where they are. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The official hotel for the European Championships. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had suspected that Kat wasn’t local what with the accent and lack of French, but hadn’t imagined that they might have actually been sharing a hotel the entire time. It made Viktor’s half-thought out plans much easier to carry out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a room here,” he blurts out as the elevator arrives with a chime. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat glances at him through the side of her smoked out eye, a little smirk toying at the corner of her lips. “I know. So do I,” she says, linking her fingers through Viktor’s and leading him into the elevator. She pushes him up against the mirrored wall and this close, she’s a few centimeters taller than him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor is irrationally turned on by that. He hopes the camera in the elevator can’t see how badly he is. That might be a bit embarrassing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She brushes her lips against his head, blowing silver hair out of the way. “Now, your room, or mine?” she asks. He shivers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor’s brain has left his body and is waving at him with it’s newfound freedom. His dick is very envious. There isn’t enough blood left in his head to make any conscious decision so he instead makes a rather pitiful, horny moan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat takes it as an answer anyways. “Mine it is,” she slides a leg in between Viktor’s thighs and presses a button. As the elevator jolts into motion, her thigh jumps and brushes up against the inseam of Viktor’s trousers. Viktor nearly pierces his own lip with how hard he bites down to stop himself from yelping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat leads him from the elevator with a sweet little smirk, fully aware of her actions and what they are doing to Viktor’s clothing. She unlocks a plain door with a little beep before turning, grabbing Viktor by the collar, and manhandling him around herself and into the room. Viktor finds himself pressed to a surprisingly firm chest (weren’t boobs supposed to be soft?) and guided backwards towards the bed. He sinks down onto it, eyes wide as Kat bites her lip and looks him over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, loverboy, any ideas on how you want to give me my orgasm? Or am I going to have to teach you how to make one?” she peels the fur coat off her shoulders slowly, dropping it to the floor in a careless display of power that has Viktor’s legs feeling weak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want you to show me,” he croaks out, eyes magnetised to the dip of Kat’s waist, drawn down to her strappy lingerie that arches high over her hips. He’s still uncertain about the whole drag business, because he’s never seen a more beautiful, sexy lady but aren’t drag queens men? Kat’s black panties don’t have much of an answer for him because they sit smooth to her skin, holding his attention until drools pools in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>The curves of her thighs, toned and muscular aren't helping his situation. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like that idea,” Kat croons, slinking closer on towering heels. She reaches the bed and leans in, toeing her shoes off behind her as she creeps into Viktor’s space. Hands braced either side of his thighs, Kat is close to eye level with Viktor, toned body warm and suggestively close to his crotch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leans in closer, slowly so that Viktor can move away if he wants to. Not that he does, Viktor never wants to be more than ten centimeters away from Kat if he can help it, not when she makes his heart pound like the ice used to, not when she looks at him with heavy lidded lust like he used to wish people would. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red painted lips brush over his own, sweetly tasting of watermelon and mint. Her nose presses into his cheek as she moves back and breaks the kiss, only to leave their foreheads pressed together. “Ready for a lesson?” she whispers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor nods. His brain is packing it’s bags. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat steps back and Viktor refrains from whining. In a smooth movement Kat pulls her mesh dress over her head and lets it drop to the floor beside the coat. Her teeth peak out as she bites her lip nervously, withdrawing for a moment. Her hands fiddle with the straps on her bra. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure, Viktor?” she says softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor tenses at the sound of his name falling from her lips, accent curling around it like an old friend. He’s wound so tightly now that Kat could pull out a dictionary and he would probably still come. He nods fervently. “Oh god yes, please, yes,” he breathes, reaching out for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat unhooks her bra deftly, letting it fall to the floor as she approaches. Under the bra, Viktor is somewhat relieved to not find breasts, but instead well developed pectoral muscles, wide and masculine. He swallows and presses his hand to Kat, who arches into the touch and climbs into his lap. Against his lips, she speaks. “Call me Kat, just for tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor can’t ponder the mysterious words because he’s overtaken by Kat filling his senses like floodwater. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She connects their lips again, harder and wetter. Viktor lets his hands explore finely built muscles, not too unlike his own. Warm skin under his palms has never been such a turn on as his fingers run over a divot caused by the bra, which must have had built in cleavage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flicking a thumb over Kat’s nipple, he is rewarded with a throaty groan and hands tugging at his jacket and shirt with impatience. “Off,” Kat mumbles into his cheek, laving over the skin with pert lips and a little bit of tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor hates to take his hands off of Kat but does so just long enough for her to get his shirt off, ringed fingers already groping, pawing, and caressing at every line of his body. He pulls her to recline with him, pressed flush to the lines of his body. Kat fits well between his thighs, the curve of her own snug in his inseam. He widens his legs to accommodate her and is rewarded with a pleasant pressure grinding down on his painfully hard crotch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He briefly worries that Kat will be able to feel how wet he’s made his underwear, how much she’s affected him all night, but it’s all for nothing because a second later Kat is reaching down and creeping her hand into his underwear, searching teasingly to give Viktor exactly what he wants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor sees his brain leave the building when Kat closes her fist around his very hard dick. He bucks into the touch, desperate for more, for friction and release, but Kat is surprisingly firm and shoves him right back down into the pillows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now now, I thought I was teaching you,” she scolds, batting her eyelashes and coyly twisting her fist. Viktor gasps. Kat lowers her face to his and indulges him in another watermelon flavoured kiss. Viktor lets go of the sheets and moans into her mouth, grappling at Kat’s chest and hips. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this worked up with such little effort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat pushes his pants down and increases her ministrations, biting at Viktor’s jaw as though she knows it’s his weak spot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he manages to wrench his eyes open, unsure of when they closed in bliss, Viktor is stunned into breathless silence. Kat is crowding over him like a predator, hair hanging loose around their faces like a curtain. Her lips are only the slightest bit smeared, eyes dark and pupils blown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” Viktor hisses, straining up to kiss her again. Kat smiles into their kiss, deepening it with a tilt of her head and an enthusiastic squeeze of her occupied hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They part with a wet noise. “You too,” Viktor grunts, hands plucking at the straps of Kat’s panties like an amateur guitar player. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More,” Kat purrs at him, and Viktor risks snapping the elastic he pulls it back so far. Kat wiggles at the fabric pinging back against her creamy skin and shimmies as Viktor pulls them down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, Viktor is definitely gay. But he was willing to accept whatever Kat had down her pants if only to get her to pay attention to her - she could have a live alligator down there and he’s still want to fuck it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor is now certain he is even more gay, because the most beautiful woman in the world has, in Viktor supreme gay opinion, the best looking dick he’s ever seen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost folds himself in half lunging to try and get it in his mouth only for Kat to push him back. She’s smirking again and it does things to Viktor, who’s experimented but apparently not enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” Kat grins. She presses herself closer, grinding down and smearing precome on Viktor’s chest. His dick twitches, red and throbbing and so sore. Kat reaches behind her, fisting Viktor’s erection again, undulating her body with the motions of her hand. “You’re here to give me an orgasm, and I’m going to show you how,” she purrs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor gulps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you clean?” Kat asks lowly, like a lover asking whether to go deeper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor nods. “Tested last week,” he says. He likes to be tested before major competitions for peace of mind. He never knows what he’s going to get up to when the medals been won. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Kat hums, reaching under the pillow and withdrawing a large pump bottle of lube. She slicks her free hand up with practiced motions and reaches behind herself again, arching her back into the best Ina Bauer Viktor’s ever seen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor holds onto her waist tighter, and Kat guides his weeping erection up until it slips in between slick cheeks, rubbing warm skin deliciously. Viktor hasn’t topped in a while, and being  pinned to the bed by a cross dressing beauty is a great way to get back into the swing of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat grinds and dry humps his hips and torso, dick tantalisingly red and leaking over Viktor’s six pack. Finally, she slows and presses Viktor’s cock into her hole, wriggling at the intrusion with a laxed expression of such utter satisfaction that Viktor almost ends their night early right then. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grits his teeth as tight heat engulfs him right down to his balls. Lube is everywhere and he can’t help but like how slick and messy it’s making his pelvis and the sheets beneath them. Kat widens her legs, edging them over Viktor’s until she’s undeniably in charge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, just like that,” she hums breathlessly. And then she goes to town, pulling Viktor up to her level so she can attack his neck with kisses while rhythmically grinding and pushing herself up on his dick. Little noises like whimpers and moans are silenced by his skin. Pressed so close together they could preserve a bouquet of roses, Viktor doesn’t think he’s ever felt so attracted and attached to someone he’s fucked on whim before. Kat is making him want to stay in bed forever, driving him crazy with attraction that seems to be more than just reciprocal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Viktor!” Kat whines when Viktor bends his knees so he can fuck up into the heat better. “Like that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, god yes!” Viktor grunts into her neck, scraping his teeth over perfumed skin. “So good, never want you to leave,” he mumbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat thrusts her hips forward and backward in a furious motion, the bed quaking under her movements. She bends backwards, weight braced on her hands. Viktor follows, pausing to rearrange them so that he is now on top, covering Kat with his own body so he can bracket her head in his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It should feel too intimate, too affectionate for strangers who met in a bar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so good,” brown eyes meet his own, something less carnal flickering behind them, something softer and sweeter that makes Viktor feel insane. He moans and reaches down, trailing his hand over bare skin until he finds Kat’s cock and fists it. “Perfect, don’t even need to learn,” Kat grunts as Viktor increases his speed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat lets out her loudest moan yet, throwing her head back into the sheets until her hair looks like spilled ink. “Just a bit more,” Viktor huffs, trying to hold himself in check until Kat has come. He did say he wanted to give her an orgasm, afterall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat comes with a small cry, legs tightening around Viktor in a way that could be terrifying if put to the wrong sort of use. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to be crushed and suffocated by those thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s normal, right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pressure of Kat’s legs forcing him closer to her, the clenching around his dick, and the slippery feeling of her come on his hand and abs sends him over the peak, slamming in one last time before slumping over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Underneath him, Kat is still shuddering. Viktor pulls out, feeling wetness follow. They’ve made a real mess, one that he doubts Kat will want to sleep in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was amazing,” he groans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat huffs out a laugh. “You’re a quick learner.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know what I’m doing,” Viktor says, only a little bit smug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d give you another gold medal if I had one,” Kat sighs, sitting up and grabbing her discarded panties. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor is confused. “You follow skating?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat’s eyes dim somewhat as she pulls on her underwear and a short robe that had been draped over a chair. “I do,” she admits. “I had tickets to Europeans so I booked shows while I was here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor is cautiously flattered. “Are you a fan?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat’s smirk returns, like a cat cornering a mouse. “I am now,” she says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor supposes he should make his way to his own room, it’s late and he does have to fly home tomorrow. But he doesn’t want to leave without knowing that he’ll see Kat again; not when he feels magnetically attached to her, and not just by the dick. He pulls on his trousers; he can’t find his underwear. Kat had flung his favourite thong somewhere unknown and he’s too fucked out to think about finding it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I see you again?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if we’re in the same place again,” she says almost conspiratorially. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will book you to be where I am,” Viktor swears, his too much gene coming into play. This is why he isn’t allowed a cheque book anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat giggles and Viktor feels that magnet yank at his chest. “I’m a busy person, but I’m sure I’ll see you again Viktor. Now off you go, I need to take this makeup off and get some beauty sleep,” she orders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor drifts out the hotel door and blindly makes it back to his room. He phones Chris immediately, hearing the noise of the bar in the background. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m in love.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <a href="https://ko-fi.com/akauthor">My Kofi</a>
</p><p>❤️❤️❤️</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And now we begin a plot that is still unplanned but could definitely turn into something - so should Yuuri be just a fan, supporting Phichit, or should he have a double life as a figure skater?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Viktor gets home - and Kat has an OnlyFans.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Enjoy! I'm so flattered and blown away at the response I've received from everyone! Please keep letting me know what you think and what you like! Especially what you want more of!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Viktor never stops thinking about Kat. He flies home and spends the entire flight silently scouring the internet for pages, information, and fansites about Kat - who is something of a recluse, he comes to learn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twitter, if searched in the right places, does have some information about her. She’s twenty three, from Japan, and her name is a play on the popular Japanese dish Katsudon - Viktor bookmarks a page on the dish and resolves to find somewhere in Saint Petersburg that serves it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His rinkmates are clearly unnerved by his uncharacteristic silence during the flight, only kept quiet themselves by Yakov’s glare. Viktor knows that Yakov likes to enjoy silence while it lasts, because it’s only a matter of time before Viktor’s excited about something or Yuri is yelling at someone. He’s been getting more of these silent periods recently, Viktor’s noticed himself waning in excitement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some days he finds it much harder than it used to be to summon a smile, or laugh at Mila teasing Yuri. It’s not sadness, he thinks, more like a void of emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emptiness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those days the ice doesn’t sing for him like it used to, instead it judges silently as Viktor struggles to find his motivation, to surprise his fans again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yakov seems to understand that the silence on the plane is different to the silence Viktor keeps carrying with him to the rink. He corrals his skaters to their seats, quietly informs the airhostess that Yuri does not require any of the children's entertainment and food services offered (god help them all if they have a repeat of the Saint Petersburg - Paris flight they suffered through earlier in the year) and takes his own seat with a huff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor has been quiet all morning. He met them at breakfast, even more airheaded than usual because he almost poured orange juice into his coffee instead of milk, and spent most of the meal craning his head over other patrons. Chris had sent him a text begging off breakfast in light of his spectacular hangover, courtesy of one too many Redheaded Sluts last night, and Yuri seems to have seen one too many mature things last night because he’s also quieter than normal, and keeps casting furtive glances over at Viktor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor hopes to see Kat at breakfast, but quickly realises that she is probably out of drag so early in the day, and he has no idea what she looks like under the makeup and wig. He’s got a collection of small lovebites on his collar bones he could use like Cinderella’s slipper, but he correctly suspects that asking all the goodlooking strangers he sees to give him hickeys to see if they match might constitute sexual harassment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The closest he gets is a younger man and his companion sitting nearby, the former brandishing a phone like a weapon while the latter, hidden behind glasses and floppy bangs shrinks into the upholstery. The younger looking one with the phone looks almost familiar, and Viktor wonders if he’s here with any of the skating contingents - he looks fit enough to be a skater - even though Viktor doesn’t recognise him as a competitor. That said, Viktor only really recognises other skaters once he’s been on a podium with them, otherwise they’re faces on profiles and skates on ice. He is certain he’s not Kat, though - his complexion is warm and bronze where Kat was cooler and cream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’re you staring at Chulanont?” Mila asks curiously, sneaking a bite of the pain au chocolat she’s hidden on her lap under the table where Yakov can’t see it and reprimand her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mila nods her head at the table where the pair Viktor is interested in are sitting. “Phichit Chulanont, the Thai skater. He’s in his second year in the senior circuit I think,” she pauses to consider her own statement. “Yeah, second year under Coach Cialdini based in America. He’s popular on social media, I follow him for hamster pics.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor silently </span>
  <em>
    <span>aahs</span>
  </em>
  <span> in realisation. So that’s why the boy looks familiar, Viktor has seen his profile a few times and maybe seen him skate once or twice. He’s not at Viktor’s level, but if he’s thinking about the right skater, Chulanont has flair and passion that could take him far. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And apparently, a massive social media following, more than Viktor’s own. Viktor hates to feel old but he wonders if ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>hamster pics</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ is really what the name implies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mila turns her phone around, presenting the screen to Viktor. She’s opened Instagram to a profile with impressive numbers. All the photos on the screen are bright and colourful, happy energy filling the screen. @phichit+chu posts photos of smiling people, a large ice rink decorated with friendly figures, and hundreds of pictures of three very adorable hamsters. Viktor makes a note to follow Phichit, if only to have his day brightened with photos of a hamster cramming its cheeks full of sunflower seeds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A photo on the bottom of the screen captures his attention - it’s Phichit grinning widely (he’s just as cute as his hamsters) with his arm around another smiling figure. Viktor flicks his eyes up just to check, and sure enough, the wide eyed person in the photo with the crooked front tooth and full cheeks is the same as the one sitting just across the hotel restaurant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor hands Mila her phone back without checking the photos tags. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t afford to fall in love with another gorgeous person right now. Kat already has his brain and his dick, and if he ever sees her again Viktor’s certain she’ll steal his heart and he’ll say thank you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, do you know him?” Mila asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but I recognise him,” Viktor nibbles at his toast. “He didn’t compete did he?” He doubts it, the name Chulanont definitely would have stood out against all the European names being thrown around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, he represents Thailand, he’s here with Coach Cialdini, the Italian? He coached one of the Italians… I want to say Luca Rossi, but I’m not sure. Anyways, he’s been coaching him long distance for a few months when Rossi’s original coach got sick. Apparently he brought Chulanont and his rinkmate along with him to scope out the European competition, seeing as both of them represent Asian countries,” Mila finishes her explanation by taking a large bite out of her pastry, eyes widening in fear when she spots Yakov - who has spotted her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mila!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mila scrambles out from her spot at the table and books it for the elevators, pastry hanging out of her mouth. Viktor watches her go with a bemused look, eyes straying back to Chulanont and his friend. The friend was sipping a cup of tea, the steam fogging his glasses. Viktor pulls out his phone and opens Instagram, intending on following Chulanont for hamster pictures and so he appears to be more onto it with social media and who is popular. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His phone is smacked out of his hands by Yakov, fuming and being orbited by a scowling Yuri. “Get your bags, we need to leave for the airport,” Yakov says. Yakov likes being at the airport two hours earlier than he needs to be, if only because it limits the amount of trouble his skaters can get into. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor locks his phone and stands without complaint, the first clue to Yakov that something wasn’t entirely normal. He decides to go with it, if Viktor can be on his best behaviour instead of running riot as usual, it means Yakov has more opportunity to pay attention to Yuri and Mila, the next two most likely to give him a coronary. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor fetches his bags and checks out, eyes peeled for Kat as unlikely as spotting her is. All he sees is Chulanont and his friend getting to the elevator before he leaves, and neither seem to notice him in return. He’s quiet on the way to the airport, scouring Twitter for images of Kat, many of which he saves, and then absentmindedly meanders through the checking in process of the airline and clears security without fuss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At this point, now airside in Bern Airport, Viktor would normally vanish into all the Duty Free stores, all the designer clothing boutiques, all the over priced tourist traps, and reappear three minutes before boarding with an armful of bags that he would fling into his closet and never look at again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, today, Viktor meanders off to a coffee stand and orders something large and covered in cream, and sits silently nearby with his phone lighting up his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He needs to find more of Kat, if only for the jerk off material. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds plenty, and has to be very careful as he passes some photographers when they land in Saint Petersburg. His long coat covers most of his terribly inconvenient problem but he had been hoping to see Kat before he left, so his favourite pair of tight jeans are doing their best to reverse any help the coat is offering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor is not ashamed to admit that the second he has closed the door to his apartment, he’s plastered his back against it and is grappling with the button on his jeans. His phone clatters to the herringbone floor, a slowly moving gif of Kat spreading her legs on stage, head cocked to the side and staring the camera down coyly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some half hour into the flight, Viktor had found a lovely site called OnlyFans that appeared to be the only place Kat reliably posted - and Viktor was more than happy to input his credit card information and see what she shared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He experienced near instant regret, because the photos and gifs Kat posts on her OnlyFans send all the blood he needs in his head down to his dick. He’s not about to jerk off in an airplane bathroom, so Viktor forces himself to close the tab on his phone, but only after bookmarking it and biting his lip so hard Yakov scrutinizes him. It’s all Viktor can do to think about other things and make it off the plane and through customs - he messages the kennel Makkachin is staying at, letting the staff know that he will pick her up in an hour or two, and then he collects his car from long term parking and drives home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s unfortunately hard this entire time. Kat is like an aphrodisiac and without release, Viktor is forced to disguise his boner like some hormonal twelve year old. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s wearing a leather bodysuit and velvet thigh high boots. The hips are cut high, showing off creamy pelvic crests and dips Viktor can actually taste on his tongue. His eyes follow the line of the bodysuit up up up and along a desperately tight little waist, impossibly tiny and just waiting for Viktor’s hands to squeeze. The sweetheart neckline pushes away from Kat’s chest, held stiff as she bends herself backwards into a horribly familiar Ina Bauer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor’s mouth is watering far more than it should be when he’s looking at an image zoomed in on some milky collarbones. His hand slides down into his pants, tucking underneath his underwear and rubbing along his length, teasing at himself with vague caresses. He closes his eyes, an imprint of Kat burned into the inside of his eyelids, and feels some drool escape his mouth at the thought of it being her hand toying with the head of his dick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could use some lube, vividly recalling how wet Kat was, how much lube she dripped over his already wet dick, how he could feel it dripping down her crack and onto his balls as he railed into her. Viktor awkwardly fumbles to shuck his jeans down his hips, grinding into his palm with jagged thrusts of his hips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He peels his sticky briefs away from his dick, slicking his hand over the head in an attempt to spread the steady precome that is beading at the tip down and reduce the need for lube. Viktor pinches and teases the head of his dick, gasping into the empty space of his apartment and jolting forward. He catches himself on his free hand, now bent over in the entrance of his home, splayed legs on the floor almost mimicking the lewd image that greets him as his eyes open and find his phone below him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat is on all fours, pert ass to the camera. Not much is covering her hole, a lacy black thong that looks more like it was cut for women than anyone with a dick the size of Kat’s. The lace is thin and unlined, stretched tight and heavy over smooth balls and a hanging bulge that has Viktor groaning out loud. Creamy skin begging to be caressed and kissed, Viktor wants nothing more in that moment than to sink his teeth into the globes of Kat’s ass and leave pretty little bruises everywhere he can reach. He wants to slide that thong down her legs and slick up her pretty hole, wants to lift her legs over his shoulders until her thighs are hugging his cheeks and he can’t breathe for Kat filling his senses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He moved his hand faster, the head of his cock peaking through the tight fist he has curled his hand into. There’s a small puddle of precome on the wooden floor, it’s gross and says everything about how much of an effect Kat’s having on him, and Viktor loves it. He wants her number, wants to show her how much he needs her, how much he can give her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor flicks to the next gif, letting go of his dick only to squeeze his balls and grit his teeth. Kat is still on all fours, but the thong is tangled around her pale legs, sodden with lube. She is reaching back to gently pull herself off, smooth skin tucked back between her legs in an almost feminine display. A puddle of lube on the floor below her sends Viktor’s mind into disarray. He can practically hear the slick, wet sounds of Kat running her hand over her dick, fisting it and fucking into her palm. Her hole is dripping too, lube smeared around it like she’d been playing before taking the final video clip. A thick trail runs from her hole down her perineum, over her balls, and onto the shaft of her dick that is leaking onto the floor. Viktor barely has the sense to muffle his groans for the sake of his neighbours before he comes, hips erratically jerking forward and come splattering over the dark wood flooring. He almost falls forward into it, muscles turning to jelly as though he’s just skated an Olympic Gold routine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor doesn’t think he’s ever come like that alone before, not hard enough to make the edges of his vision blur and shake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pants, wobbling to his feet to fetch a nearby box of tissues. He leaves his luggage where it stands and cleans himself up, then the floor. He makes a note in his phone to buy some bottles of lube to stash around because if Kat’s going to post photos like that, Viktor can’t be held responsible for ripping his dick off in the living room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t wait to see her again. It occurs to him that if she follows skating she might be at Four Continents in just a few weeks. His sex-ruined brain is texting Yakov immediately, making sure he can have that chance even if he doesn’t compete at Four Continents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: Yakov, 16:43</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to 4CC </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yakov will probably let him go for publicity’s sake, and probably take it as Viktor getting back into the swing of things after being so emotionally absent for so long. He’ll think it’s to check out the competition. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor won’t correct him on that, only find out the official hotel and pack his best underwear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yakov won’t reply until tomorrow at the earliest, so Viktor changes his underwear and jeans for some that aren’t stained with come, grabs his keys, and goes to pick up Makkachin from the kennel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Makkachin is delighted to see him, and even more so to be home again. She’s a homebody of a dog, and if she can’t be with Viktor at all times, their apartment serves just as well. Viktor dishes up her premium food and tops it with some vitamins and supplements the vet supplies him with. He leaves her dish in the kitchen, knowing that she’s probably investigating the apartment to make sure it’s not changed over the past five days and that once it passes her inspection she will eat in her own time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Makkachin snuffles around the armchair no one uses Viktor yanks his new medal out from one of his suitcases and dangles it in front of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look what I won Makka! Do you like it?” Makkachin gives it a perfunctory sniff and whuffs at Viktor in congratulations before ambling off to the kitchen. She’s seen so many of Viktor’s medals that he has to dip them in peanut butter if he wants her to behave interested in the slightest. At Makkachin’s dismissal, Viktor drops the medal on the coffee table with a cold clank! and flops onto the couch, phone raised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Recalling his intention of following Phichit Chulanont, he opens his Instagram and pulls up his search page - and Phichit is already featured on it. His latest photo looks to have been taken at breakfast that morning, because Viktor can see the water feature he loudly called ugly on checking in, in the background. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phichit isn’t in the photo, but his friend from breakfast is; bundled in a blue scarf that’s almost up to his glasses. He’s got sweet features, monolidded doe eyes that pluck at heartstrings and lovely round cheeks that beg to be kissed. Viktor was correct in his decision not to look at the friend too long because he feels a little giddy at the sight of such cuteness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cuteness is offset by a gap in the scarf by his jaw, where a reddish bruise is branded into the pale skin. Viktor frowns at the stirring he feels in his groin. He’s only just got himself off, getting it up again shouldn’t be so easy, not without more stimulation that Viktor isn’t doing. He frowns down at his crotch, not wanting to change pants again. He’s 27 but recently been feeling like he’s 50, getting off a second time in such a relatively short period of time sounds like a wishful dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now it’s closer to a wet dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A buzz in his hand redirects his attention back to his phone. Kat has posted on her Onlyfans, and Viktor opens the app so fast he almost flings his phone clear across the room. It’s a small photo set, one of Kat’s upper chest, where her chest is decorated with familiar lovebites, red and purple climbing up her collarbones, along the glimpse of jaw, and disappearing around her neck where Viktor know’s he struggled to reach but nipped nevertheless. It’s indisputably hot and possessive, his instant arousal at seeing his marks on Kat, displayed for everyone to see. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s no longer stirring in his jeans, he’s rock hard and ready to go. And he still hasn’t bought more lube. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swipes to the next photo and can’t be blamed for his sudden stripping in his living room. Cock springing free to slap his stomach with a trail of wetness, Viktor groans and taps at the image on his screen. Kat is gripping her cock, laying down on her back with her legs pressed together and stripy socks pulled up past her knees. The background looks like the hotel and Viktor has never wanted to get back on a plane so fast before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kat is spent, a pool of white come low on her belly, still dripping off of her pert cock, clearly not soft yet. A purple bruise shaped like a hand circles one hip in the corner of the frame, long fingers clearly defined on cream skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Viktor nearly sobs and a string of come drips into his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His poor, poor dick.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>❤️❤️❤️</p><p>
  <a href="https://ko-fi.com/akauthor">Consider my Kofi?</a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anything you want to see in particular? Or see more of? <br/>I don't have much of a plot outlined for this, sort just a vague meandering path that sort of lines up with canon. <br/>If there is something you want in particular, I'd love to know so I can include it. <br/>I'm especially looking for ideas on the identity reveal - when, where, how? Because of all the things I have worked out, that is not one of them. So: how do we want our boys to come clean (then presumably get dirty?)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Viktor sees Yuuri</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's a short one, bridging the gap between competition and another appearance from Kat</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the weeks leading up to Four Continents, Viktor’s motivation, mood, and efforts increase dramatically both on and off the ice. The only person with any clue is Yuri, who’s been refusing to make eye contact with Viktor since the bar. </p><p> </p><p>In retrospect, leaving him at a gay bar in Bern with Chris for supervision was not the best idea, but following men known to be slutty into gay bars in foreign countries is also not a good idea so in Viktor’s defence, Yuri committed the first sin that night. </p><p> </p><p>Some people, like Yakov and Mila have asked Viktor about his sudden upturn in mood and he’s been forced to be vague about the reason for the sake of societal politeness. </p><p> </p><p>He has confided in Chris, however. </p><p> </p><p>Viktor has gone through approximately two bottles of lube, has stashes of tissues and lube in every room in his apartment, and has almost ripped his dick off everyday for the past week and a half. Kat posts regularly, and everytime a picture or short, silent video goes live, Viktor abandons whatever he’s occupied with, drops whatever he’s holding and shoves a hand down his pants. </p><p> </p><p>He makes sure he’s alone first, of course.</p><p>He’s not into solo exhibitionism.</p><p> </p><p>Viktor has never orgasmed so much in his life. </p><p> </p><p>It’s probably a little depressing, he thinks to himself one afternoon, sated and jelly-legged with a still photo of Kat stretched into the splits on a lit stage, mini dress ridden up over the globes of her ass to show off little lace panties. </p><p> </p><p>Viktor has been skating since he was young, competing from the age of thirteen and dominating ever since. The thrill of winning drove Viktor through his formative years, which lead to spotty schooling at best and a near non-existent social life outside of the rink. He struggled to make friends his own age because he spent all of his time at the rink, and when he was there those his age were below his level and Viktor was far too busy practicing to engage otherwise. </p><p> </p><p>Without the social pressures of growing up with a peer group his age, Viktor didn’t explore his sexuality until he was in his late teens - though part of this can definitely be blamed on a delayed puberty. In sports like figure skating, where athletes are expected or required to have a low body mass index and marginal fat deposits, puberty often begins far later than it should. </p><p> </p><p>Viktor’s physician once explained it to him. He was a tall, perpetually disapproving old man who could hold an entire conversation in grunts and despised Yakov with an impressive intensity. It wasn’t until Viktor was sixteen, sitting in front of the man in a thin gown, that he understood. </p><p> </p><p>The rigorous training regimes, strict diets, and constant state of physical stress athletes, Viktor included, were subjected to could technically be classified as malnutrition. Without proper nutrition and fat stores, Viktor’s body was struggling to even begin puberty, let alone go through it. </p><p> </p><p>The doctor, Vasilyevich, ended up prescribing some hormone medication for Viktor, and then had another shouting match with Yakov over the health of his skaters. Yakov has always meant well, and seeing that Viktor was the one with the drive to win, he had only encouraged it (possibly too much) and allowed Viktor as much time on the ice as he wanted. </p><p> </p><p>After Vasilyevich vs. Yakov, it appeared facts had been laid too bare to be ignored or only partially considered. A dietician from the RSU joined their team for a shocking monthly fee and all the skaters were monitored closer, weighed and given weekly meal plans to ensure they were not only in peak competing form, but also physically healthy. Viktor recalls it being an adjustment rink-wide, because Yakov was snappish in his shame, as well intended as his actions had been, and some of his top skaters were suddenly kick started into bodily changes that meant growth spurts and relearning movements they had known for years. </p><p> </p><p>Viktor had grown almost ten inches over the off-season, filled out with muscle gain that was easily won with reasonable, healthy meals, and started shaving. He was also put on a very strict schedule as opposed to the lax one he enjoyed previously, where his rink time was shorter and spread out, and his off rink exercise was also monitored and kept at a reasonable level.</p><p> </p><p>He worried that he wouldn’t be in winning form (he was wrong) but found solace in a puppy Makkachin, who has been the main force keeping him on and off the ice at reasonable times ever since. </p><p> </p><p>Until now. Now, Viktor was almost sprinting off of the ice to retrieve his phone from Yakov and get home, where photos and videos of Kat were waiting for him. Just the thought of her pale cheeks and creamy thighs had conditioned Viktor’s dick to reach painful hardness in record time. </p><p> </p><p>He’s spent more money in the last week on lingerie, toys, and novelty lubricant and condoms than should feasibly be possible - in fact Viktor’s quite surprised and glad that his bank hasn’t called to verify that his card hasn’t been stolen. </p><p> </p><p>Of course, vanilla lube that looks an awful lot like what Kat sometimes uses is a completely necessary purchase. Viktor can honestly say that of all of Kat’s photos, the ones with the vanilla lube, which is thicker, viscous, and coloured in the filthiest shade of white are his favourite. And now he’s craving vanilla at odd times and hoping he doesn’t start getting Pavlovian boners over the flavour just because he came in his jeans at a clip of Kat licking white lube off of her fingers. </p><p> </p><p>So now here he is, in the official hotel for Four Continents, this year held in Seoul, debating which flavour of lubricated condom to store in his wallet in case he runs into Kat and they don’t make it back to a hotel room. They didn’t use a condom in Bern, but Viktor wants to be prepared in any case, which is why he has filled an entire toiletry bag with paraphernalia. </p><p> </p><p>His badge and lanyard is discarded on the bed spread, beside a small bottle of lube that Viktor intends on tucking under the pillow, just in case. </p><p> </p><p>If Kat isn’t here, while Viktor will be disappointed, he can always hope that she’ll post something new. Or he’ll find one of the older pictures he’s partial to. </p><p>Viktor knows that he may have a problem, but until he has a medical reason to leave his dick and prostate alone, he will soldier on, and daydream inappropriately of Kat.</p><p> </p><p>Because bouncing on his favourite dildo, still sore and tired from practice but vividly imagining that it’s Kat underneath him, pistoning up and grinding into him takes absolute precedence these days. Just the thought of coming home after practice and she’s waiting for him, coaxing him into their bed that’s still rumpled from a morning snuggle, and pressing into him so gently, so slowly - Viktor’s always felt rather deeply rather fast, but it’s almost terrifying just how caught up in Kat he’s gotten. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually Viktor decides on apple flavoured, because it seems like a safe bet, and just to be extra safe, he also adds a vanilla flavoured one into the inside pocket of his jacket. </p><p> </p><p>Yakov wouldn’t let him miss practice for the full amount of time the competition is running, especially not with Viktor’s renewed energy for the ice, so he’d been forced to miss the days running up to the short programs in which skaters are practicing and generally being friendly. Viktor doesn’t have many friends, in fact, he doesn’t personally know any of the skaters competing, having only met a couple of them in passing at Worlds or Grand Prix events. </p><p> </p><p>The Mens Short Programs are due to start soon, and as much as Viktor booked this trip as a Kat Scouting Exercise, he knows he should make an effort to engage with his skating peers and competition. At the very least, he might be able to meet Phichit Chulanont and ask him about his hamsters (and his cute friend who is never tagged in anything because Viktor’s life is very unfair and knows that his brain couldn’t handle two insane crushes). </p><p> </p><p>Checking that he has his phone and wallet, Viktor grabs the badge marking him as some sort of VIP skater that isn’t competing, and heads downstairs to catch a ride to the Mokdong Ice Rink. </p><p>Seoul is very pretty, and lively in a way that Saint Petersburg isn’t. There’s billboards and colours and lights everywhere, brightening up a chilly winter day. Viktor doesn’t often site-see, too caught up in the competition, so he resolves to spend some time being a proper tourist for once. </p><p>He’ll definitely need to look up any bars and clubs that Kat might be performing at, provided of course she wasn’t kidding when she said she follows figure skating. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck, Viktor has it bad. </p><p> </p><p>He taps at his phone for most of the ride, which ends up being delayed due to some kind of accident nearby. The driver is endlessly polite about it and explains as be he can in stilted English, which is good because Viktor’s Korean begins and ends with <em> Hello, I like tteokbokki. </em></p><p> </p><p>By the time he’s waded through the crowds of press at the entrance to the rink, which was a very strange experience on his own, the Mens Short Program Warm Up has already ended. Viktor, by virtue of being himself, is allowed to sit and mingle in the coaches and skaters area rinkside, instead of up in the stands where it’s harder to pretend to scope out competition. It’s both good and bad though, because Kat isn’t likely to be rinkside as a part of a team. </p><p> </p><p>Viktor finds himself a seat, smiling charmingly at the skaters and their coaches he passes. They’re all confused, that much is plain, but seeing as he isn’t dressed to compete and they have to be on the ice at some point in the next hour, nobody says anything to him. </p><p> </p><p>The first skater is Altin, from Kazakhstan, a familiar face to Viktor. He isn’t on personal terms with Otabek, but he isn’t sure anyone actually is. Altin is standoffish in a way that Viktor isn’t - Viktor is often left alone because other skaters are nervous, or because he appears to be the untouchable status in skating. Altin gets left alone because his face never changes from a flat, disinterested glare. </p><p> </p><p>He’d probably get along with Yuri, Viktor thinks. </p><p> </p><p>After Altin’s display, a nice skate that Viktor has seen a few times already this season, a young American takes to the ice and does well, but falls short of Altin’s placing. The stadium welcomes a couple of Koreans onto the ice with more prideful warmth than the first two were awarded, but neither Choi nor Lee bump Altin, which Viktor expected - Altin placed bronze at the Grand Prix Final, dipping lower at Four Continents would look shabby for such an experienced and awarded skater. As the scores for Seung-gil Lee are announced and the next skater, an Australian Viktor has never seen before, does a quick lap of the ice, two competitors approach the rink in front of Viktor. </p><p> </p><p>The shorter one, with darker skin, is ready for the ice. He’s shed any team clothing and is shaking out his shoulders dressed in a deep red shirt and dark pants. He’s got his phone in front of him and for as young as he looks, the skater is quite calm for such a big competition. </p><p> </p><p>Viktor recognises coach Celestino Cialdini reach over and pluck the young man’s phone from him, lightly reprimanding his skater. Viktor sits up straighter - and, sure enough, Phichit Chulanont is announced as the next skater. </p><p> </p><p>His friend stays at the barrier with Cialdini, presumably another skater competing. He’s taller, dressed in dark pants and a Team Japan jacket that’s actually quite fitted to his waist. Not that Viktor’s looking at his waist, because -</p><p>Bubble butt. </p><p> </p><p>Cialdini’s Japanese skater has the most amazing bubble butt Viktor has ever laid eyes on and his dick is starting to agree with him.</p><p> </p><p>Viktor pulls his eyes away from the fine ass in front of him and focuses on Chulanont’s skate. It’s a difficult task, paying attention to skating with a semi and the most perfect ass in the world in front of him, but Viktor manages it. </p><p> </p><p>Chulanont skates almost like a Broadway Star, Viktor thinks. He pulls the crowd in with music and thrives off of the attention - making sure the entire performance belongs to himself and nothing else. It’s commendable, Viktor notes. He will have to keep an eye on Chulanont in the coming seasons because if the Thai boy can refine some of his technical skills, add a quad or two reliably and still carry out a performance worthy of a stage, he will go far in figure skating. </p><p> </p><p>Cialdini leaves his Japanese skater to meet Chulanont for the kiss and cry. Immediately, the shoulders of the other skater rise and tense, and his entire body locks up. It’s not a good way to prepare for a skate, Viktor thinks, staring at white knuckled fists knocking against the skater’s thigh in an anxious pattern. </p><p> </p><p>Viktor’s not often nervous before competitions, and he doesn’t recall ever really experiencing any sort of genuine fear before he steps on the ice. It’s home, it calls him, and once the crowd is blurred by spins and jumps, he’s alone where he wants to be. </p><p> </p><p>Mila, on the other hand, struggles endlessly at large competitions. Their entire rink knows it and does their best to help her through it. As the only female under Yakov, it means that between their coach, Yuri, Georgi, and Viktor, there’s always one of them nearby to help talk her through her program and set her unease to rest. Because they know she can do it, and so does Mila, but sometimes she worries about things going wrong when they won’t. And even if they do, she needs to be reminded that they don’t matter, not one bit. </p><p>Viktor doesn’t often end up playing this role because he’s not that good at understanding other people’s emotions and thought processes. He often makes it worse when he thinks that he’s helping because he treats them as he would want to be treated - but not everyone wants to be treated like Viktor. </p><p> </p><p>This skater though, he looks like he needs to settle down before he vomits and ruins his skate. Viktor is enjoying seeing others compete without his name blocking them from the top, in fact, it’s made him quite invested in seeing if Altin can be knocked off the top spot. </p><p> </p><p>Viktor rises from his seat, deaf to the scores being read out, and is about to approach the nervous skater when Chulanont barrels into them. The Thai skater whispers something in his friend’s ear and presses an adorably sweet kiss to his forehead, rocking up on his toes to do so. The skater relaxes and nods, looking to Cialdini before shucking his jacket and stepping over to the gate. </p><p> </p><p>Under the jacket he wears a glittery blue blazer with a mesh shirt underneath, just giving a hint of defined pecs that has Viktor wondering if they match the bubble butt. As the skater turns one last time to Chulanont, he takes off his glasses and hands them to Cialdini, but there is no denying who he is. </p><p> </p><p>The untagged friend on Chulanont’s Instagram. </p><p> </p><p><em> By christ he’s as cute in person as he is online </em>, Viktor thinks, a little bit dazed. A face like that can’t be legal, not when he’s already got a bubble butt to die for. And he’s a skater, Viktor didn’t realise.</p><p>He’s not stalked Chulanont’s social media as planned because he’s been… distracted over the past weeks. </p><p>Now he definitely has to. </p><p> </p><p>“Representing Japan, Yuuri Katsuki, skating to <em> Confrontation </em>,” echoes around the rink. Viktor sinks back into his seat, eyes trained on the screen overhead. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yuuri Katsuki. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The song is unexpected, dramatic and almost suited better to a pair skate than a single, but Yuuri makes it work. It’s personal, intense, and melancholy, three things figure skaters don’t often use in their music on the ice because it’s hard to be emotive while still being technically perfect. </p><p>Yuuri steps with the lyrics, swinging around and spinning in an argument only he can hear, flying over the ice with an emotional desperation Viktor’s never seen before.</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri is far more connected to the music than any other skater Viktor’s seen today, possibly more than any skater Viktor’s seen <em> ever </em> . Sure, he wobbles on his landing with a triple axel, and narrowly avoids over rotating his quad toe loop, but as he winds up and slows down with the music, Viktor realises that his presentation score will probably top Altin’s. How could it not, when Yuuri skates <em> with </em> the music, not to the music. The voices singing increase in tone, and Yuuri arches around the rink in a gorgeous Ina Bauer, smoothly transitioning into a jumpy little combination in time with the argument. </p><p> </p><p>Viktor doesn’t realise that he’s stood up until he’s clapping with the rest of the crowd. </p><p> </p><p>Yuuri exits the ice with a heaving chest, taking his glasses from a beaming Cialdini with some quiet words. Viktor tracks them to the kiss and cry, leaving his seat for reasons he’s not sure of himself. He lingers nearby, away from any stray cameras with his head down while Yuuri’s scores are announced. </p><p> </p><p>85.75 isn’t a bad score, but Viktor purses his lips anyways. Yuuri can definitely do better, and Viktor is very interested in seeing it. He’s sitting in fifth place presently, but the Free Skate is where the bulk of the points are made. </p><p> </p><p>Chulanont bounces onto the scene, scooping Yuuri into a hug. Viktor feels irrational jealousy bite at his chest. He shouldn’t be jealous, he’s here looking for Kat - if he finds her he can get another close up of her own impressive Ina Bauer.</p><p> </p><p>“Yuuri, did you hear!” </p><p> </p><p>Yuuri is still out of breath, pink cheeked and sweaty in a way Viktor wishes he had never seen. “Seen what?” </p><p> </p><p>“Viktor’s here! He’s watching the competition!” Chulanont is very enthused by this, to Viktor’s silent amusement, but Yuuri’s reaction is even more interesting. </p><p> </p><p>The skater flushes further, pulling his lip into his mouth and chewing on it. “Do you think he saw me?” Yuuri looks up from under his eyelashes.</p><p> </p><p>“Saw you?” Chulanont questioned. “He follows me on Insta, if he missed seeing you skating live I’ll spam my accounts until I’m sure he’s seen you,” the Thai skater is very confident in his ability. </p><p> </p><p>Shockingly, Yuuri splutters out a little laugh. “You’ve got to stop dropping that into conversation. He followed you two weeks ago and you’ve told me everyday since.”</p><p> </p><p>Chulanont pouts. “I thought you’d be more excited. I wonder if he recognised you?”</p><p> </p><p>Recognised him? Of course Viktor did, Yuuri’s face is quite unforgettable. </p><p> </p><p>“Yuuri! Mooroka wants to ask you some questions, if thats okay?” Cialdini sweeps over to his skaters and interrupts them. Viktor deflates. He was enjoying hearing gossip about himself. If Yuuri is a fan, perhaps he would like it if Viktor invested in him a little bit? Perhaps offered some friendly advice, one skater to another?</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri walks off towards some reporters with large cameras, but Chulanont holds Cialdini back for a second. “Can we go out tonight?” </p><p> </p><p>“Out or <em> out? </em>” Cialdini asks with one fluffy eyebrow raised. </p><p> </p><p>Chulanont rolls his eyes. “Out out. We won’t go far, we promise.” He’s got a good set of puppy dog eyes on him, Chulanont. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine, but be back by eleven and nothing demanding. You’re both set up for good results tomorrow and pulling something tonight won’t help.”</p><p> </p><p>Chulanont’s smile turns sly. “I won’t pull anything, but Yuuri’s definitely might.” </p><p> </p><p>Cialdini sighs professionally, while Viktor hacks on his own spit. </p><p> </p><p>What the fuck did that mean? </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmxVjXtmSaA">Yuuri skates to Confrontation from Jekyll and Hyde</a>
</p><p>❤️❤️❤️</p><p>Please consider my <a href="https://ko-fi.com/akauthor">Kofi</a></p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://akauthor.tumblr.com/post/643263965202366464/yuuri-as-kat-from-orgasm-on-the-house">A quick visual on what Kat looks like!</a>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please keep letting me know what you think and what you want to see! There's not much planned for this, so all ideas are welcome and considered.<br/>I LOVE hearing your favourite quotes too, it makes my day ❤️</p><p>Some more Kat next! Gimme your ideas, sweet, smutty, and everything in between 😊</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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